


With a Smile

by wedontslave



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Sad Ending, Tragedy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27302101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wedontslave/pseuds/wedontslave
Summary: "That night, a part of me died. That night, I changed. And really, I can’t bring it upon myself to care."
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	With a Smile

**Author's Note:**

> This story is graphic. Viewer discretion is advised.

Many nights have changed my life. I remember them all.

Like the night when I first kissed you. Or the night when we first made love. The night when I got down to your knee and proposed.

This night changed my life forever.

It was one year into our marriage. One year into what was meant to be sixty, seventy, eighty years of pure bliss, euphoria with the love of my life: you.

I have loved you for so long that I started to love you before I even knew it. I had gone through so much, you had gone through so much, so much joy, pain, suffering, to get us both to where we were now. It was so worth it. I loved you so much. You loved me so much. We were made for each other like it was destiny; it was just a matter of time before we found each other. And I am so glad that I found you when I needed you the most, when life seemed to be the hardest. And for that, I am infinitely grateful, as now every single second spent with you, I cherish with all my heart.

I didn’t at first. I took you for granted sometimes. Now I regret it.

I just want one more lingering touch, one more kiss, one more smile. Is that too much to ask for?

Regret. Remorse. Guilt.

Sadness. Despair.

Fury.

I clutch the ‘C + L’ necklace that I wear every second of every passing day tightly in my hand. It is one of the only things that tie me to you now. Other than my ring, but that is firmly wielded into my left ring finger: it is a part of my hand now.

That night. The night that changed my life forever.

I had been preparing dinner, cooking your favourite: spaghetti and meatballs. I just love watching you twirl the spaghetti onto your fork and you would put it sensually into your mouth. However, there would sometimes be some sauce at the corners and that would be when I lick the sauce off your face. You would then tilt your head slightly to capture my lips with a kiss. It would be slightly uncomfortable, kissing across the table, but the usual ecstasy that accompanies the kiss renders that insignificant.

That was when I received the call that changed everything. The call that would haunt me for the rest of my life. The call that made my blood run cold and my heart beat erratically in my chest.

_“Come to Chalvey Close in ten minutes with your credit card. Or you won’t get to say goodbye to your wife.”_

I didn’t want to believe him. But then when I heard: _“Save yourself,”_ undeniably in _your_ voice, strained and pained, I knew that I had to save you.

The last thing I heard before the phone was hung up was your heavy breathing and a sadistic laugh from someone who was not the caller.

I stood there frozen for too long. One minute out of ten wasted.

I spent too long grabbing my purse and getting the keys for the car. Two minutes wasted.

I spent too long getting in the car and slamming my foot on the pedal. Three minutes wasted.

I ran red lights, I swerved through the traffic. I didn’t care. Not when your life was in danger. The drive to Chalvey Close took me a record time of eight minutes. One minute too late.

If I didn’t waste all that time, I would’ve been there on time. I could’ve saved you.

I found you bleeding out, sprawled on the floor. Your stomach had been punctured by multiple stab wounds. Your face was flickering weakly, accompanied with dying breaths.

I had run to your side, cradling your head, stroking your hair as you murmured that you loved me one last time.

The ambulance came too late.

You were pronounced dead at the scene.

The rest of the night was a blurry haze as my heart felt like it was going to fail. My eyeballs felt like it was going to come out as I cried a river. I vaguely registered the feel of people pulling me into hugs, whispering nothings, words that were meant to comfort.

I didn’t want their sympathy. It was all my fault. I came too late.

That night, a part of me died. That night, I changed. And really, I can’t bring it upon myself to care.

The perpetrators were never caught. They were never found.

The police are shit.

I clung onto the phone call like it was everything. After all, it was the only piece of information I had concerning your demise.

It took me a year. A year of searching, tracing, tracking.

They were brothers, located in Baltimore, Maryland. I know their address now.

I no longer blame myself. I have forgiven myself, under the constant reminders that it was not my fault from friends and family. It is true that when someone says something so much, you start to believe it. It is their fault, the three sinister brothers. The brothers who took the one best thing that had been mine. They took everything.

I took the train there, watching the raindrops slide down the window next to my seat. I listened to the sounds, the smooth glide of the train through the rails, the soft platter of rain as it cut through the humid air, the soft chatter of the people surrounding me.

It really didn’t take long to locate where they lived. In a dingy apartment outside the city.

They weren’t home. But that’s okay. I simply broke the door open and walked in like I owned the place. Considering what they took from me, they owed me at least that much. Their place wasn’t bad at all, in all fairness. A little shabby on the exterior, pretty nicely decorated on the inside.

I didn’t pay much attention to the rather aesthetically pleasing items of furniture inside, however. I haven’t really paid much attention to anything this past year other than finding these people.

They will be home soon.

Thankfully, I am a good actress and a good talker.

The brothers came home with some kind of drink bottle in their hand. They were probably drunk, but that’s okay, I can work with that.

I gave them a seductive smirk and being the fucking idiots that they are, they grinned at each other and pointed at me. One of them started to make his way towards me.

He didn’t get within one metre within my personal space before I calmly took out the knife that was hiding behind my back and stabbed him in the chest. Some blood hit me in the face, but really, I didn’t care.

The two other idiots came rushing forward, trying to help the person that just got stabbed, who was now dead on the floor, face frozen eternally in shock, eyes wide.

Really, they were just making my job a whole lot easier.

I stood up from my seat on the couch, almost bored, and slashed the second one’s throat. His head nearly came off, but it stayed on and he crumpled to the floor.

The third one stood there in fear. Really, if he had any sense he would bolt, but I am grateful that he was just making my job a whole lot easier.

“W-Why are you doing this?” he stuttered. “Who are you?”

Well, he isn’t so strong now, is he? When he is on the receiving end of what he normally does, what he did to you?

“Her wife,” I simply answered. “The love of my life, the person you killed a year ago,” I elaborated.

I was quite vague, but he seemed to realise what I was talking about. He backed away from me, but I didn’t let him get too far before I languidly reached forward and slashed with the knife. It hit him in the arm and he yelled in pain, left arm covering his right arm where there was now a steady stream of blood cascading down.

I didn’t give him a chance to recover. I stepped forward and thrust the now crimson knife at him. It cut through the hand covering the wound, slicing his fingers off. My knife continued its motion and cut deeper into his arm.

I wanted to let him suffer. A gut feeling told me that he was the one who killed you. His voice matches the sadistic laugh that was in the phone call that I listened to at least a thousand times over, the phone call that haunted me at least a thousand times over too.

I exhaled with my nose as I swung the knife again. I didn’t hear his screams as his arm fell off, joining the severed fingers on the floor. All I heard was tranquillity, peace, the ocean sliding across the sand and retreating again. I didn’t smell the putrid smell of rotting flesh. I smelt the sweet cherry blossom that was present when I took you for a walk in our honeymoon.

He didn’t really know what to do. He looked so scared. I pouted mockingly as he cowered onto the floor, whimpering in agony.

My final, vertical swing of the knife cut his head open, and consequently split his brain, sending mush flying everywhere.

I didn’t even find it gross. I didn’t even try to escape. I dropped the knife on the floor and sat back on the couch, patiently waiting for someone to find me.

I had a smile on my face as my hands got cuffed an hour later.

The trial didn’t really last long. God bless my lawyer, who tried his very best to prevent me from getting capital punishment. But he didn’t really have anything to work with, really.

My friends and family were shocked at what I did. But really, I don’t care. No one’s opinion matter to you other than yours.

Forgive me for what I’ve done? Everything I do is for you.

The irony of a lawyer who normally works for the plaintiff in murder cases committing first-degree murder herself. I can nearly laugh at it. But there was nothing funny about this situation. I haven’t felt anything but numbness since a year ago, since that night.

As the gavel is slammed sealing my fate, I catch a glimpse of my mum and dad, who were both sobbing and had the most crestfallen expression on their face. I catch a glimpse of Bellamy, who had been my best friend this past year especially, face stricken with pure shock and seemingly speechless.

I am led away by huge, buff bodyguards. I don’t resist. I walk obediently towards where I will be confined until my execution, with a smile.

The week leading up to my execution passes quickly, thankfully, as I simply cannot wait.

Life holds no meaning. Not without you.

I sleep. I eat. I think.

Minutes turn into hours which turn into days. Easy as that.

It is peaceful as I am led to the chair. I take a last glimpse at the world, the light, before I am strapped. I close my eyes, with a smile.

Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt.

I love you, Lexa. I never stopped.

May we meet again.

The button is pushed.

My smile never falters as my consciousness fades.

**Author's Note:**

> Call me sick, but I've been feeling down and my keyboard is my punching bag.  
> Still, I hope you enjoyed.  
> Please, no hate x


End file.
